He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his mouth.
“Too much coincidence. Too much packed into one moment. Someone or something triggered it all.”
“Did the rogues say anything?” I asked.
Darius nodded grimly. “That day, when I questioned one of the dying ones, he said something that didn’t make sense at the time. He said, ‘The blood of the white wolf is all the master needs. And when he gets it, your lands will turn to forgotten memories.’”
My blood turned to ice.
“What the hell does that mean?” I whispered, barely able to form the words.
He looked at me again. “You said you never met your mother.”
“Not really,” I replied. “My father said I was seven when she died. But now? I’m not sure. I don’t remember her face. I don’t remember anything that makes sense. No portraits. No paintings. N
